


When Worlds Collide

by theworldisblue



Category: Batman (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Dick is a good big brother, Peter Parker is awkward, Tags Are Hard, a little bit of language, au bc who needs canon, batfamily & avengers, bruce wayne is hinted at very slightly, but he might come in later, clint is sort of hot headed, i love cassandra and dami they're so cute, i wrote this at like 3am, its jason what can we do, jason is protective but also an ass, maybe ooc on a few characters oops, might continue later idk, the idea just kept bugging me, theres pretty much zero plot, thor is mentioned he doesnt really say anything, tony as a dad and peter being oblivious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25810438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworldisblue/pseuds/theworldisblue
Summary: Tony’s days, though still mildly stressful sometimes, were very much a lot better than they had been in a long time. It seemed this new trend of timid calm that he had found himself falling into was here to stay. Or maybe that was hopeful thinking. Because of course today would be the day that a bunch of kids poof into the top story of his Avengers tower smack in the middle of a meeting with the rest of the team.Basically the Batfam meets the Avengers.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Tony Stark, Cassandra Cain & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain & Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Comments: 38
Kudos: 429





	1. (not so) stressful day

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic idea that came to me and literally wouldn't leave so I figured I would just write it out. I don't know what it is, but something about dc and marvel heroes meeting is incredibly interesting to me so here we are. I'm also horrible at titles, but lets not try to dwell on it.
> 
> A few of your faves might be ooc, but it was rough trying to write dialogue between thirteen people, so I did my best. I feel like I especially did Thor dirty, but I also think I did the batkids some justice so I'll deal. Also, since this is a crossover fic, the timelines are a little wonky. All you really need to know is, if they're tagged I wrote them in.
> 
> If there are any mistakes or revisions that need to be made, feel free to let me know. Also feel free to put your opinion. I'll live if you don't love it. I did write this at 3am with a very groggy editing session the next day so, in any case, try to be forgiving if you find mistakes.

It was turning out to be a _very_ stressful day. Not that Tony was a stranger to stressful days. He had come to learn the past few years that constant stress and problems just kind of came with the whole public superhero rich guy thing. Who would've thought? 

But really, though, Tony had thought he’d gotten a pretty good handle on all this by now. He had the whole superhero thing down to an easy science. The Avengers team was mostly what made that possible, not that he would _ever_ openly admit it. Having other people who could help with saving the world, watching over things, and even shouldering some of the blame when things went to shit was nicer than he could have foreseen. Being Ironman was no longer borderlining on impossible anymore, just stressful at best. He could deal with that. 

He could also deal with Stark Industries a whole lot better now. His life outside of the suit had been overflowing before he even decided to _become_ Ironman. Having to juggle both was the closest thing to hell Tony had ever experienced, and he was once kidnapped and tortured into creating a superweapon for terrorists. His solution to that one was a whole lot better than Captain America and friends too. At least Tony thought so. 

Pepper. The solution always seemed to be Pepper, in the end. Sometimes he marveled on how he ever got around without her before. She had swooped in and had more or less taken the reigns in regards to Stark Industries, claiming he was still the genius behind the success, but it needed undistracted care. He happened to disagree with her at very first, but soon came around when he saw how the company was absolutely soaring. This made his personal life almost like a breeze for a while. Both his company and his love were intertwined and thriving and Tony wasn't responsible for keeping it that way. Not alone, anyway. And that made all the difference. 

He did manage to tack some of that stress right back on ( _because of course he did_ ) in the form of a bubbly fifteen year old from Queens who wore a red and blue onesie when he went out to fight crime. Even though basically claiming a kid wasn't on his to-do list in any sense, Tony found a way to manage it and eventually the decision didn't seem _as_ absurd. 

Tony’s days, though still mildly stressful sometimes, were very much a lot better than they had been in a long time. It seemed this new trend of timid calm that he had found himself falling into was here to stay. Or maybe that was hopeful thinking. Because of course today would be the day that a bunch of kids poof into the top story of his Avengers tower smack in the middle of a meeting with the rest of the team. 

They weren't actually in the middle of discussing anything, having been interrupted by a very animated Peter Parker talking about god knows what, before a very bright green engulfed the room. For a moment Tony thought he was waking up from a dream. He found himself blinking profusely, trying to get the annoying starbursts of color obstructing his vision to get the hint and go the heck away. It took him a moment to realize he was on the floor, having at some point fallen and tried not to think about the sticky spot he set his hand in as he worked to stand up. Peter probably didn't correctly clean up a soda or something. _Great_. Tony swiveled his head around at his fellow heroes and felt his heart hitch dramatically in his chest when he didn't immediately see Pete. 

Dramatic because he saw the kid literally a second later, disorientingly standing from the floor as well, using the side of the table the team was all standing around a moment ago. Tony felt a mild annoyance at the boy's nonchalance, seeing as how he had just made Tony’s heart do backflips for no good reason just a second ago. 

He went searching for the source of the green light, stopping up short as he stared at what was in the center of the room. There was a group of clustered children, all stirring as well. Now they _definitely_ weren’t there a second ago. The initial shock was enough for his brain to short-circuit for a moment and quickly sweep around the rest of the room, half expecting to find more clusters of children in the vicinity of the room. Alas, this group before him seemed to be the only one.

By now the rest of the Avengers were standing as well, save for Nat and Banner, who were desperately whispering from the other side of the table. He couldn't see them clearly, but he’d guess his whole fortune they were trying to keep hulk from coming out to play. Well, maybe not his _entire_ fortune. Maybe like 12% of it. It’s still a stupid amount of money.

The group of kids also seemed to stand as well, muttering among themselves as they turned to face him and the rest. Most of them were in defensive stances, but a few within the huddle seemed to be preoccupied by other things. Everyone seemed a little bit out of it so it wasn't surprising that he had to really think about Clint’s words as he said them. 

“Who are you?” 

Tony would second the question if his brain was currently working. For now all he could seem to do was gape at the group of assorted people before him in a cautious curiosity. They all had some sort of suit on, differing colors and designs, but still somehow all seeming to match. There was a slender boy, maybe in his very early twenties, that Tony vaguely registered as the older, call-all-the-shots, guy of the group. His suit was part black, a clear theme between them all, but was the only one with any blue. It was in the form of a large bird across his chest. He was standing in front of six others. The only blonde was a young girl in a purple suit. Maybe late teens? College aged? That was about right. Beside her was a woman in all black. Asain descent maybe. Tony guessed she was the same age as blondie. Above blondie was the biggest guy of the group. He was clearly an adult, but still couldn't be over twenty. He also seemed to be the only one in normal clothing, his brown leather jacket hugging his arms in a way that meant it had been worn a whole lot. Tony didn’t doubt his connection to the rest though, seeming as the bat design on his shirt perfectly matched the bat across the woman’s chest beside him. The woman, in question, was wearing a suit, the shades of purple slightly different from blondie’s. She looked to be among the older kids as well, probably even legally an adult. She appeared almost motherly, despite the mess that was her red hair curtaining down her shoulders. Perhaps it was the way she was peering over at one of the smaller kids out of the group. He was wearing a suit of red and black. Definitely not an adult, late teens maybe. He also hadn’t looked up from his arm since they had arrived, his head of raven hair spilling around his eyes. The most surprising of them all was probably the smallest child. He looked maybe 8 by his height, standing the closest to the man in blue. He seemed to not be able to pick just one color, because he was decked out not only in just black, but green, red, and yellow as well. 

They certainly were a colorful bunch. And they seemed to completely ignore him and the rest of the Avengers. At least, they were now. After a few few glaces at the Avengers, the turned within their little group and had a conversation amongst themselves. The only people who kept their eyes on Tony and the others were leather jacket guy, the girl next to blondie, and the literal toddler dressed like a traffic light. 

“Can you hurry Replacement? I’d _really_ like to get the fuck out of here.”

“Yeah I'm working on it. These things do take _some_ time you know.”

“I thought you were some super genius. You’re saying you can't speed it up just a little?”

“Do you wanna give it a try because by all means-”

“Ok everyone just calm down and-”

“No, Tim you’re doing it wrong. Find the satellite first-”

“You don't think I'm _trying?_ The damn thing has disappeared.”

“Don't tell me you _lost the satellite_.”

“I didn't lose the satellite, it's _gone_!”

“Alright let's not jump to conclusions, i'm sure there's a logical explanation for why-”

“Grayson-”

“Just a sec Dami- and no names in the field. What? No, I'm saying that there's no way it's just gone. There seriously has to be some other way to-” 

“Screw field names it's not like we have our masks anymore anyway-”

“ _Grayson.”_

“What?” 

”Perhaps we should turn our attention to the hostiles in front of us.”

Just like that, with one fluid movement, all conversation ceased and six heads turned up to Tony and the rest. Tony supposed he should be offended at being called a “hostile”, but he also couldn't help but notice that he could see the kid in red and black more clearly. Namely the bright holographic screen he was staring at on his wrist. So _that's_ what he had been looking at. 

It was Steve who stepped forward next, pushing Peter behind him as he stood directly across the group. _Way to be the leader Cap._

Almost as soon as he did, leather jacket pulled out two guns and pointed them right at Steve. Not smart on leather jacket’s part. Not smart at all. 

“Woah there buddy you stay put,” the boy said as everyone, save for the red-head and hologram wrist kid, fell into defensive positions. This was going to go bad and quick. 

Steve had frozen in place, along with the rest of the Avengers. They were wound up now, ready to jump into attack if need be. The energy in the room was stiff, charged with the beginning sparks of a very large flame. The last thing Tony wanted to do was start a fight. Especially in his beloved tower that had _just_ been rebuilt. Especially with Peter in the room. _Especially_ against literal children. He couldn't help but think that most of his worries stemmed straight from knowing Peter. Now he was suddenly very worried about the well-being of several random, possibly evil, children from god knows where. It was only slightly annoying. 

Still, with a huff resignation, he stepped forward towards Cap. Leather jacket turned one of his guns on Tony as well, biting out a “don't move” as the little one started to reach for what looked like a sheathed sword. Tony put his hands up as if to motion a truce. None of them seemed to acknowledge it and he swore he could see them tense more. The only two not immediately aware of the situation was the red head and wrist thing kid, hunched over the holographic computer and muttering softly to each other. 

“Look,” Tony started, seeing as the two remaining kids snapped their heads up and trained their steady gazes at him. He had all of their attention now. “We don't want to fight you, really. We-” he gestured around to the members behind him, using the action to silently trigger his suit with a specific hand motion. “-only want to talk. Who are you? Where did you come from? I swear we can help.”

Swear might have been the wrong word. Tony hoped he could help, but perhaps he should have made sure they weren't like horrible world-dominating aliens or something before he went on promising things. But they didn't _look_ like evil aliens. They didn't even look evil. Trained, dangerous, and slightly intimidating? Sure. But maybe not _evil._

None of them had moved a muscle. As if he was realizing Tony was done speaking, the kid turned back down to his holographic computer thing. Great. Were they even going to acknowledge he had spoken? Did they know that was the socially acceptable thing to do when someone was talking to you? 

Then, like a whip, the red head snapped her head to the side. “ _Flash,”_ she said, her voice directed at the computer kid. There was a tone of realization, like she had just solved a particularly hard puzzle and was shocked at the answer. The boy looked up from the screen, watching her carefully. They seemed to have a silent conversation, completely with head tilting and the squinting of eyes. They couldn't read minds could they? God, Tony hoped not. 

“Oh,” the boy finally said, eyes darting back down to the screen. “We’re on another earth!”

Now _that_ wasn't something Tony was expecting. The rest of the little group seemed to startle at that as well. Blondie even chimed in, not making an effort to hide her incredulous face, “ _What?”_

“Like the multiverse theory?” A voice asked at the corner of the room. Tony was only slightly taken back to see the voice belonged to Banner. He and Nat had long since risen from their place on the floor. He only looked slightly roughed up, a few buttons on his shirt missing, allowing for a window of pale chest to peek through. 

The boy perked his head up, craning to see who had spoken. “Yes, exactly like that.”

The next ten minutes were filled with a lot of things that Tony wasn't ready to believe in the slightest yet. Banner, with helpful offerings from the boy, explained the whole other earth thing. Which was basically that this group of children were from earth, just a different version of it. That's why they couldn't connect to their satellite. (Had he heard that right? Their own satellite?) Banner, with some overtaking by Steve, explained that they were the Avengers and really could help them. And then the boy in blue took over for the kids, explaining that they were heroes of sorts on _their_ earth. Tony couldn't help but eye the tiny traffic light, but deduced that they obviously couldn't mean _him._ The boy in blue (Grayson…?) then explained that Flash, a hero on their earth, had gotten stuck on another earth _before,_ so that's how they knew what this was. They made some comments about something called the Justice League and by then Tony was ready for a break. 

“Ok, ok, let's take a minute,” he cut into the discussion. “This is a whole lot at once. Maybe we should just start with names? That sound good to everyone?”

He said it like a question, but it sounded more like a straight demand. Good. The group of strangers had melted out of their attack stances by now, guns put away. The boy in the leather jacket crossed his arms and glared at Tony. He tried his best to return it, but honestly found it hard to focus on the guy's eyes rather than the very distracting white streak in his black hair. “You first then.”

It wasn't the most _absurd_ request. But it still took Tony a minute to register it. I mean, why were they so hostile? Luckily Cap was quick to fill in for Tony’s minor mental absence. _Gotta love Steve, always coming in the save the day._

“Ok, well I'm Steve, that’s Tony,” he pointed towards Tony and then pointed towards the other members in the room as he said their names as well, “Nat, Clint’s over there, Bruce, Thor’s been in the back mostly, and uh-” He faltered when he got to Peter, unsure if he should say his name or not. Tony was about to cut in with _not_ , but the kid beat him to it. 

“I'm Peter.”

It was silent for a beat before blondie spoke up. “Wow, we’re going by real names here?”

“What do you mean _real names_?”

“Well, don't you have like separate names for when you’re out being a hero and stuff?” It was the redhead who spoke now, cocking her head to the side as she spoke. 

“Uh, yeah, I mean sure we do.” Steve said. 

“So why did you give us your real names?” The man in blue and black crossed his arms after the question. It seemed not a single one of them was capable of talking for more than two minutes at a time. 

“I mean, we can tell you both.” Steve said, shrugging as he continued, “Tony goes by Ironman. Nat is Blackwidow, Clint is Hawkeye, and Bruce is Hulk. I'm Captain America.”

There was an amused snort from someone in the group. Tony had a suspicion it was blondie, but he didn't say anything. 

“And Thor?” Nightwing asked, after having shot a look at the group behind him. 

“Thor is, well, he’s always Thor.”

“And I, uh, go by Spiderman. In my suit I mean. It would be just weird if I went by Spiderman just because, but since I'm a hero and stuff it's… not weird.” 

Tony suppressed the urge to groan as Peter chimed in. They were going to have a pointed talk later. Still, Tony turned back to the kids. 

“Your turn.”

There was a slight moment where he thought they might just not tell them, but it passed quickly. 

“Ok, then,” the blonde started turning to look at the strange assortment of children around her. He was slightly surprised the man in blue hadn't been the one to speak, but it quickly became unimportant as the girl started introductions. “I'm Stephanie, but all these chuckleheads call me Steph. When out on the streets, I go by Spoiler.”

There were a few scoffs at the “chuckleheads” comment, but no one made a move to stop her as she continued. “The bonehead looming over my shoulder is Jason, but he goes by the _big bad_ Red Hood when out in masks- or in his case- bright red helmets.”

There was a slight hitch from the boy above her that was barely heard as she turned to the girl beside her. Tony had almost forgotten she was there. She was the only kid who hasn't spoken a single word. Only stared at them with a peculiar intensity. She reminded Tony of the ghost. “This here is everyone’s favorite, Cass. Full name being Cassandra, made up name being Orphan.”

“Dick is the only one wearing blue. His full name is Richard but he _insists_ on the nickname. He’s also a part of the creative hero names club, only other members being Cass and I, going by Nightwing.”

There was a slight offended huff by the tiny one, but Steph just soldiered on. “The kid practically sewn to Dick’s side is Damian, and our current Robin. He may look cute, but don't be fooled. That ones vicious.”

The huff turned into an indignant squawk that was quickly quieted with a look from the older boy, who was now known as Dick. “The dummy who hasn't looked up from his screen more than two times since we’ve arrived- in unknown territory no less-” the boy looked up at this, blinking as if he hadn’t expected to be addressed, “-is our Timmy, but you should probably just stick with Tim. Out of incredible originality, he decided to go by Red Robin, but I’ve got it on good authority that he just wanted to piss Dami off, so we let it slide.”

“And lastly, the guardian angel who has been hovering above us all, is Barbara. She iconically goes by Batgirl.”

Steph smiled after her small speech, letting the rest of the Avengers absorb the information. It sure was a lavish introduction. Tony was feeling slightly more comfortable regardless, deciding finally that his suit _wasn't_ going to make an appearance. 

“So, how did you get here?” Peter asked. Tony tried not to notice how Peter shot him a look, almost like asking for permission. Because _of course_ he didn't have it. These were still strangers. Names be damned. If Peter wanted to be dumb, he could do it knowing of Tony’s disapproval. It was only _fair_.

“Yeah, uh, still working on that one,” Tim admits now, holographic computer finally put away. Tony really looked at them for the first time now, deeper than his first, slightly hazy, overview. They all looked tired, hair messy and shoulders tense. Whatever happened, they had clearly gotten in some sort of scuffle before arriving. 

“We can figure all that out later. For now, are any of you injured or anything?” Tony started, feeling only mildly bad it had taken him so long to ask. He realized in the very back of his mind that it was probably dumb to not demand answers right this minute. He was pretty content with ignoring that fact, but Nat seemed to disagree.

“No, we won't do this later. We need to know how they got here and how to make sure no one else can.”

“Lets not forget the part where we get home,” Jason said, his voice matching her intensity.

“Well, considering that it was _you_ who stumbled onto _our_ earth, I think we should be the ones calling the shots,” Clint said. He had come to the stand by Nat now, his crossed arms mirroring Jason.

“Why would we listen to you? You are clearly inferior.”

It took Tony a minute to realize that the haughty words had come from the mike n ike. What was his name again? Screw it, Tony was gonna call him Tiny. Tiny was staring at the group with a vile gaze, almost as if to challenge them. 

“Damian enough. We are _not_ going to antagonize them,” Dick said now. 

“It was not my intention to anger them. I was simply stating a fact.”

“A fact? You have got to be kidding me.” Clint stopped, looking like he was ready to really rip into the little asshole, but sighed instead, putting his face in his hands. “Yeah, look, i'm not gonna fight with a child. And a very rude one at that. Are any of you capable of having an adult conversation?”

“Tt. I am _not_ a child-”

“Dami- just, give it a minute-”

“No Dickface, tater-tot has a point. Who is that guy to tell us who should and should not be speaking for us. I mean, the little brat isn't _my_ first choice either. Doesn't mean anyone gets to disrespect him.”

“Jason please lets just-”

“No Dickie, Jay is right,” It was blondie who cut in now. Or, Stephanie? Yeah, that sounded right. It was Stephanie who cut in. “He might be annoying, but no one is allowed to insult him except _us_.”

There was a chorus of agreement from the group. “Look, i'm not disagreeing, but we can't start a fight because they don't have manners.”

Tony was starting to think that Dick was the voice of reason in this group. “Maybe if we did, they would learn some.” Jason said.

“I'm sorry, _we_ don't have manners? The little one insulted _us_ first.” Cap broke in. Tony had slowly worked his way around the room to stand by Peter. On any other occasion, he might have joined in with the arguing, but right now there were a few more important things. Like Pete, for example. So he let the arguing wash over him as he shouldered up beside the teen.

"You ok?" Tony asked quietly, looking the boy up and down. 

"Huh? Oh, yeah I'm good," he said, only partly tearing himself away from the rapidly declining situation. Tony focused back in as well, looking to see if a fight was going to break out after all. If so, he was definitely going to have to get Peter out of here. 

"I need you to go downstairs."

"What? No! I'm staying here."

Tony tried not to sigh, he _really_ did, but he was also slightly annoyed that Peter had chosen this exact moment to be rebellious. Pete might just make his heart stop one of these days, really.

“Look kid, I'm not asking. You are going to go downstairs right now or-”

He didn't actually know _what_ exactly he was going to do. I mean, he was sure something scary would come out, but he didn't really know what. He didn't have to worry about it either, because the situation before him exploded at the very moment. With Peter still very much in the room, Tony came to the conclusion that they were absolutely _not_ going to fight seven unknown assailants in his tower. And no one seemed to be making any moves to deescalate the situation. When did he become the sane one?

“If you leave I will shoot you all. Don't think I won't.” Clint had his bow out, an arrow cocked and ready to go. Jason took out his guns once more, pointing them. Tiny had his sword out and the rest of the group all seemed to pull out some sort of weapon as well. Except the ghost. Cassandra? Yeah, except Cassandra. She was still, eyes darting between both groups of people. Nat had her gun out too, Thor having picked up his hammer. Not good. Not good at all. 

“Woah, ok, no one is shooting anyone,” Tony spoke now, only slightly annoyed that their big brave leader wasn't the one doing damage control. “And who said anyone was leaving?”

“They aren't,” Nat spoke. Her eyes were trained on the group in front of them. They had all spread out more now, making more of a rough line than a cluster. 

“Oh, we _are._ ” Barbara said, narrowing her eyes at Nat threateningly.

“Everyone, let's just take a moment. Why don't we put down the weapons and talk? I mean, we all really want the same thing right? You want to go home. _We_ want you off of our earth. We could help each other. So, let's not fight.”

He had stepped in between the two groups, putting a hand up to either side as a premature ceasefire. He managed to give both Nat and Clint pointed looks, as if to say _are you seriously thinking of fighting these children?_ They lowered their weapons seconds later. Now if only that worked half as well with Peter. The kids, however, didn't lower their weapons. In fact, they didn't move at all, still all screwed up in offensive positions. At last, Cassandra spoke, her voice quiet but hard.

“No fighting. _Understand_.”

They all looked at her a moment before, like magic, all lowering their weapons, shifting to stand in more friendly positions. They still looked more than ready to jump into action, but at least it didn't look like they were literally seconds away. Sparky sticks and a staff were tucked away. Even Tiny put down his sword.

“She’s right,” Dick spoke up now. “It's best if we try to help each other.”

Huh. Maybe Tony was wrong and _she_ was the call-the-shots guy. Sure seemed that way.

**********

The rest of the afternoon was a flurry of things. There was a whole lot of discussion and unnecessary hostility, but soon they had all answered enough questions to satisfy the other. Peter still vehemently refused to leave the room and Tony more or less let it pass. It wasn't like he was in any immediate danger anymore anyway. 

By the time night time rolled around, it was clear the kids were pretty tired. Speaking of kids, he also learned that only two of them were legally minors. The oldest was Dick, being twenty one. Though it seemed Barbara was the same age. Jason was nineteen, (give or take, he had said), but Tony was sure there was something he was missing. Both Stephanie and Cassandra were either just about, or just turned eighteen. Tim was newly seventeen and Tiny was just shy of eleven. Tony had also gathered that they were all siblings of sorts. _It's complicated_ Dick had said, eyeing the others _. No,_ Cass said then _, Not complicated. Family._

They sure didn't _look_ related in any sense, except for some of the boys, who seemed to share the same piercing blue eyes. It also seemed that neither Cass, nor Dick, were the call-the-shots guy. _No he didn't come here with us, but he will find us. He always does._ They sure did talk about him a lot. 

After everything, Tony offered the kids some of the guest rooms in the tower. He sure as hell had enough and they needed _somewhere_ to sleep. Peter announced shortly after that he too would spend the night, having the gall to act like it was a pure coincidence as he made his way to his normal room. Tony _had_ to stay, considering it was his building. Nat, Steve, and Clint decided to stay as well, claiming they didn't want to chance him being too outnumbered. He appreciated the sentiment. 

Now Tony was left at the very same table with the remaining Avengers. It was late now, maybe close to midnight. Peter was long asleep, at least Tony hoped. Maybe he should check on him. Later though. For now, him and the others were watching the hologram screen of their guests in front of them. 

Ok, so, _sure_ spying is pretty wrong. Even Tony knew that. But this was purely for the safety of the world and, well, Peter, who had insisted on sleeping down the hall from scary strangers. Tony was trying his very best to not be offended on how the group all squeezed into a single room. He had enough for all of them to get their own beds and had shown them as such, but the second he walked away, they all holed up into the room closest to the exits. Because of course they did. 

So, yeah, spying was wrong. But being rude house guests was also wrong. _They_ didn't seem to mind much. So then neither did Tony. The kids had been talking at first, not saying much dangerous. There was a good five minutes where they made fun of literally all of them. 

(“Captain America? And you guys make fun of _my_ name.”

“That's because you got yours from a bad guy. Plus, nothing beats _Hulk_. Where do you even get a name like that?”

“Well I'm just glad to see people on this earth are just as unoriginal as on ours. I mean, slapping man on the back of a word is as lazy as you can get.”

“Yeah because Spoiler is just _revolutionary_.”

“You named yourself after a _bird._ I don't wanna hear it.”

“Tt. The names are only meant for practical purposes. Originality is irrelevant.”

“It isn't when you want a little pizzazz.”

“What? Pizzazz like _Hawkeye_?”

They had all laughed at that.)

They sure did bicker a whole lot. And Tony had to convince Clint not to barge in a few times to keep from punching them all in the face. Apparently they found the name Hawkeye hilarious. The only name they didn't immediately make fun of was Nat’s. 

(“Black Widow is cool. Sort of sounds like something a villain would be called, but I can get behind it.”

“Tt. I'm assuming it's because she probably _was_ one.”

“The hell you mean demon.”

“She is an assassin.”

“Former.”

“Cain is correct. She _was_ an assassin.”)

Nat didn't react, though Tony would have understood if she did. No one inherently said anything _mean_ about it. Just nodded as if it made sense and moved on. Like the fact that she had once killed people was unimportant. And perhaps, compared to what they had done, it was. 

After a while they fell into silence, all finding their places around the room. Cass leaned against the wall right beside the door, running her hands through Damian's hair as he slept in her lap. He was among the first to fall asleep. Tim later curled up in the plush chair pushed in the opposite corner, a blanket draped around him sometime later by Dick. Both Dick and Jason slept side-by-side on the floor and it took a whole lot of Tony’s strength to not go remind them there were six other open bedrooms with beds waiting for them. Stephanie and Barbara shared the bed. Soon the room was a dark shadow of shallow breathing and still bodies. The only one that Tony guessed was still awake was Cass, sitting like a statue and watching her “family”. 

It seemed to the Avengers, wise to follow suit, having one of them stay up to keep watch, allowing the others to get some sleep. 

There was a single, quiet moment where Tony felt that maybe today wasn’t _as_ stressful as it could have been. No one was hurt. _Peter_ wasn't hurt. And things were, more or less, under control. And really, that's all he could ask for.

  
  



	2. alike yet so very different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tim and peter 
> 
> &
> 
> nat and damian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a couple drabbles I've written over the last few days for this fic. I've had a few people ask me to continue this so I figured that as long as I had interest in the project I would. Again, there's very little editing so lets try to move past that.
> 
> I have no clue when the next chapter will be out, but it probably wont be longer than a week. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Peter had never met another hero his age before. In fact, he didn't even know if he had thought they existed before now. The fact that there were other kid superheroes in the tower right now, was the coolest thing that has _ever_ happened to him. 

He didn't get to talk to them much when they first arrived. Mr. Stark hadn’t wanted him to get too involved, which, first of all, ouch. He was young, yes, and he knew that the team was always a bit hesitant when it came to involving him, and he could even understand that to a certain degree, but Mr. Stark had practically tried to throw him out of the room. It was only slightly insulting. 

Second, Peter wasn’t going to let Mr. Stark try to take away this, quite literal, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to become friends with heroes more like him. Heroes who, ahem, were under the age of thirty five. Not that being old was bad or anything, but you could only hang around old people for so long before you start picking up their old-person words. Ned had already made fun of him for it once and Peter was not about to let it happen again.

That’s why, the morning after the arrival of Peter’s soon-to-be best friends, he woke up extra early. Like, waking-up-to-walk-to-school early. No one was awake yet, it seemed, although who would be surprised. Only Peter could think to wake up at a time as ungodly as this. 

He made his way around the tower, noting how silent and still it was without people running around. He didn’t usually stay the night and when he did, it was simply because it was too late for him to get back home, so he was still not used to the quiet of the mornings here. At home May was always up early, blaring some kind of music or listening to the news way too loud. 

He ended up in the same room as the day before, sitting at the bar connected to the little kitchenette. He tried not to think about just how long he would be waiting for the first of the inhabitants to wake up. He also tried not to think about how tired he was. It was far past midnight when he did go to bed and here he was now, up only moments after the sun had even gotten the chance to rise. Perhaps if he laid his head on the counter for just a moment. Surely a few minutes wouldn't hurt anything. Surely… 

When he looked up again, hearing shuffling footsteps, the sun was considerably higher in the sky and there was an embarrassingly large pile of drool collected on the table. He rubbed it with his sleeve quickly, turning his attention over to the person who had woken him up. He could feel his heart soaring as he recognized the perpetrator as one of the other-earth kids. It was one of the younger ones, his hair messy and sticking up all around his head, wearing the gray sweatpants and white t-shirt Mr. Stark had quickly ordered for all the kids before they went to sleep for the night. He was pacing the kitchen, blindly opening cabinets and drawers. 

Peter scrubbed the remainders of sleep out of his eyes as he addressed the boy, “Hey, uh, you’re Tim, right?” Of course, Peter knew that was Tim without a shadow of a doubt. He had always been spectacularly bad at names, so he made sure to perfectly memorize the names of these visitors before any interaction. He always did his best when he was prepared, after all. 

The boy looked up from what he was doing, blinking at Peter like he had just noticed his existence. His eyes were rimmed with red and blown wide, settling on Peter uncomfortably, sort of like a scratchy blanket. “Yeah,” he started, leaning now on the counter, across from Peter, “you don't happen to know if there’s any coffee here, do you?”

Peter tried his best to boot his brain back into action as he ran Tim’s words over and over in his mind. He waited just a moment too long before answering, “Coffee? I mean, yeah, the machine is over here and-” He rose from his place in the chair, pulling out things from the kitchen as he spoke, “the filters are next to the- yeah, you found them- and then the actual coffee is…” 

It took them a few moments, aimlessly stumbling around the kitchen as they attempted to make coffee. Peter had never made coffee at the tower, actually. Mr. Stark had a thing against literally anything that was even remotely bad for Peter, so he had this whole “don't touch the caffeine” rule already firmly set in place. But Tim wasn’t Peter and the last thing he was going to do was start talking about rules to the first friend he got the chance to talk too.

Once Tim had his cup of coffee and was sitting at the bar, Peter tried his hand at conversation. “So... is it good?”

 _Is it good?_ He tried not to outwardly cringe at how awkward his voice came out sounding. Tim didn't seem to notice, looking up from his drink and blinking confusedly. He cocked his head to the side as if to ask, _what_ , before turning back down to the cup in his hand.

It took Peter a few minutes before he tried again. “You’re a hero too right?”

Tim was at the end of his coffee by now, looking a lot more awake that he had just moments ago. He turned to Peter for the umpteenth time, nodding as he took the last sip. Peter had expected that to be all, since Tim had said maybe two phrases since his appearance, but it seems Peter was wrong. “Yeah, something like that. Usually I don't think of myself as one unless I have a mask on, though.”

He stood to go put his cup in the sink, or to refill it, before stopping still halfway through the trip. He turned to face Peter, squinting his eyes like he was thinking about something. “Too?”

“What?”

“You said, ‘you’re a hero _too_ ’. Does that mean you dress up in a costume and save people as well?”

There was no malice in the statement. Tim wasn’t challenging Peter as if he believed the notion of him being a hero was ridiculous, like he had to come to expect. No, Tim was an innocent sort of curious. Like he genuinely wanted to know. Still, Peter could feel the defensiveness build inside of him. 

“Wait,” Tim started again, a small smile forming on his face. “Spiderman, right?” All Peter could manage was a meager nod. Tim continued on anyway, “Well, damn, I’m sorry. I’m not really all there without my coffee.” Tim moved his hands around his head, as if to narrate what “not all there” meant. 

Peter found his voice then, feeling slightly more confident that Tim was no longer blankly ignoring him, “It’s- don’t worry about it- it’s fine.”

Tim had, at this point, poured himself another cup of coffee. “So, why Spiderman? Mean something?”

His back was to Peter, pouring milk and sugar, or whatever it was that people used, into his coffee. Tim said it in a bored interest, like he really didn't have anything better to do than ask Peter random questions. Peter supposed he probably didn't. Despite this, Peter felt a smile jump onto his face as he answered, “Well, I was bitten by this radioactive spider like six months ago. Ever since then I’ve been able to do things a spider can, but scaled to a human level.”

Tim looked at him raising an eyebrow as he nursed his coffee in his hands. “Like, making webs?”

“Well, no. I mean, yes I use webs, but no they don't come from _me._ I have web generating technology on my suit, but I can't shoot it from my bare wrist or anything.”

Tim cocked his head to the side now, setting his elbows on the bar. “Then what do you do?”

“I have the strength a spider would if it was scaled up to the size of a human and I can, well, it’d probably be easier to show you.”

Before his nerve could dry up, Peter rose from his chair and over to the windows overlooking New York city. They were hot to the touch, the morning sun having beat down on them for hours at this point. Without another word to the unsuspecting boy behind him, Peter walked up the surface, standing on it as if it were the ground. Mr. Stark had rules against Peter crawling up walls in the tower, but it's not like Mr. Stark was _here._ Tim was here, though, and Peter wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to show off. If Ned were here, he’d be proud. 

Tim's eyes seemed to bug out of his head for a moment. “Woah man, that's so cool.”

“Isn’t it?” Peter said back, his confidence rising. “I can also sense when somethings about to hit me and stuff like that. Think of really strong intuition, just dialled to 100.”

“Huh,” was all Tim said as he gazed at Peter, a calculating astonishment on his face.

“I, uh, could show you how it all works. We’ve been running tests down in Mr. Stark’s lab to understand the DNA part of it, and my suit would be down there too. But only if you have the time-”

“Let me stop you there,” Tim put his hand up. Peter tried to prepare himself for the fake apology and excuse on why he couldn't when Tim said, “you couldn't _keep_ me out of that lab. Lead the way.”

Peter felt a smile break out on his face as he returned to the floor once more. It was _so_ nice to have someone else to talk to around here. 

**********

Damian hated being anywhere but home. Sure, he was trained to survive unknown, and possibly violent, environments since he was old enough to pronounce the word “environment”. And sure, this environment wasn’t entirely hostile either. That still didn't make him any more comfortable in a place he didn’t know. It was like walking through a minefield of bombs that you’re horribly unprepared to deal with should you have the misfortune of setting one off. 

And it isn’t fun. 

None of the rest of his insipid family seemed to really share this sentiment. By the morning after their arrival, they had all gone their separate ways, promises to meet up again late that afternoon called into the dust. He knew that at least one of them would be a no-show. That's always how it seemed to work with them. They were attached and clingy at first sign of danger, banding together with a loyalty that rivaled that of The League, but when the smoke cleared and the danger faded away they were back to their petty arguments and seemingly coincidental avoidance of each other. Because family only meant anything if one of them was in immediate danger. 

Damian didn't mind this all too much. After all, they were all incessantly annoying. Except maybe Grayson and Cain, but still. Grayson had offered to stay with Damian today, but Damian wasn’t dumb. It was abundantly clear Grayson wished to spend the day with Gordon, and Damian always did hate when he caused his brother to miss out on things. Because of this, Damian brushed him off, knowing that whatever they did would be helpful to getting the group home. After all, that was the unofficial plan. Split up, learn what you can, and try to find a way home. Very refined, as all things involving his family were, of course. 

Cain had slipped off into the shadows, no doubt to hide in vents of the tower and eavesdrop on the conversations she could find. Her version of fun was always a bit unorthodox. Drake had wandered off in search for his daily caffeine consumption and Todd had left to “explore the new world”. 

This left Damian alone in a strange place that was crawling with strange people. He ended up searching for a place to train because, when in doubt, go with what you know. Plus, being on a new earth was hardly an excuse to get behind. 

He found the room with relative ease, seeing as everything of importance resided on more or less the same floor. The training room was empty at the moment, but still showed signs of use. There were no weapons on the walls like Damian was used too, but workout equipment was in one corner and punching bags hung from the roof. There were training dummies and a few sparring sticks over by a plush mat. It was a standard training room, if not a little pitiful. It was workable though. And really, that's all Damian needed. 

He did a quick and simple session, working not to overexert himself should he need to fight the people which his family had formed a timid truce with. It was hardly going to last, but it seemed he was the only one who cared. But fine, he would just be individually ready for what was to come. Whatever it may be. 

It had been quite some time, maybe an hour or two, before someone else came in the room. He spun around to face them, ready in case it was someone with ill intentions. It was merely the redhead from the day before. The one like him. _Assassin_ whispered in his head, urging him to be careful. 

She moved from the doorway into the room, a gentle smile signaling that she wasn't here to cause anything. She moved to one of the practice dummies, going through a few basic rounds and stealing quick looks to Damian, but that was all. 

Unlike her, Damian didn’t hide his staring. 

“You were an assassin too, weren't you?” She asked, during a break, tying her hair up out of her face. They had trained side by side in silence for what felt like hours. It took Damian longer than he could comfortably admit that she was speaking to him. To discern what it was she had _said_. 

She knew about him, but of course she did. It was easy to peg other killers within a room of the morally good. A room of non-killers. It was something about the way you looked at things. Once you have the eyes of an assassin, you can never take it back. Never stop looking at people first glance and discerning the most efficient way to take them out. It was also pretty impossible to hide. Damian would know because once upon a time, he had tried. If you had the look yourself, it was immensely easy to recognise it on someone else. So, of course she had seen it within the first few seconds of looking at him. No surprise there. 

He didn't say anything for so long that it seemed he would never reply before, “Yes.”

“And your sister as well? The quiet one?”

“Yes.”

They had both stopped, eyeing each other, the only sounds being their heavy breathing and the creaking chains holding up a swinging punching bag. Her look wasn’t challenging. Not like it was the day before, and it set Damian at ease only slightly. She clearly hadn't come to start any real fight. 

“Is that how you knew?” She said finally.

“Knew what?” 

And then a sigh. “That I’m just like you.”

“You can say murderer.” He bit out now, hating how she seemed to be talking to an animal rather than a person. 

“Fine. That I was a murderer.”

He tried not to feel bad at the monotone in her voice. He might have hurt her, but that wasn't his problem. He wasn’t responsible for the feelings of others. There was no room for things as irrelevant as that. What would efficiency be if he worried himself over such things?

He turned away from her now, trying to resist the urge to leave. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of driving him out. And then, “Want to spar with me?”

He turned back, seeing as she held two wooden sticks in her hand. She tilted her head in the direction of the plush mat on the floor and made her way over. 

She was good. Better than him, for sure. Damian was pretty good at discerning who was going to win a fight within the first few moves, and he was almost positive she would win. Still, he fought well, proving himself a noble warrior even as he hit the mat in a jarring defeat. 

“You’re good,” she said, offering him a hand as he dragged himself up. He scoffed, knocking it away, because _of course_ he was good. He was trained by some of the best fighters to grace the earth. _His_ earth anyway. Still, she continued, “You’re a lot better than I was at your age. And I was the best in my class.”

She started to put away the sparring sticks, leaving him answering to her retreating back, “I was the only one in my class.”

She paused for a moment before whipping back around and tossing him one of the sticks. “You got a pretty cool kick in back there. Teach it to me and I’ll give you some pointers.”

He raised his eyebrow, searching her face for any form of trickery. He came up short, which means one of two things. Either she was incredibly good at masking her face and tells, which would make her that much more dangerous to be around, or she genuinely didn't have any ulterior motives. 

And despite his mother’s voice screaming in his head to be practical, to separate himself from anything that could even remotely be a threat to his success, he chose to believe the latter. Because his family was off in the wind and it would be a long day to spend alone. Plus, maybe he would learn something in the process. Surely that was a good use of his time. Surely that would be acceptable to his elders. 

So, he found himself nodding and saying, “Very well, but pay close attention. It is not as easy as it may appear.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of mundane and distracted, but I've had quite a few other things on my mind lately. Hope you enjoyed it anyways. 
> 
> Thank you for everyone who has read, commented, bookmarked, and left kudos on this fic. Your engagement is motivates me more than you could know.
> 
> Until next time, be safe and get enough sleep.


	3. brutus and blondie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> clint's adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi
> 
> So, yes, it's been a lot longer than a week. Sorry.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter was a lot of fun to write. I actually have a little bit of a plot forming in my head. No promises, but there might be some more serious, actual story material in here soon. Until then, enjoy this literally pointless fluff. Also this might be ooc. Sue me. 
> 
> As always, there isn't a whole lot of editing. I have to actually do my schoolwork eventually, so there just isn't time. I hope you enjoy anyway, and thank you for reading.

Today was, just, the _worst_ day ever. 

Not only had Clint woken up with the biggest headache that he has _ever_ had, but he had also spent the entire day trying to help reign in a bunch of weird other-earth children. Who, very annoyingly, insisted on scattering in painfully separate places. 

He and the rest of the others that decided to stick around for Tony’s sake decided to split up who was watching who so they would all be accounted for. Nat called Damian and Cassandra right off the bat. Steve said he wanted the two oldest ones (so Dick and Barbara), probably so he could yell at them for letting the little tiny one go out in costume. That would most certainly bite them in the ass later. Tony said he wanted Peter and since the kid already seemed to be holed up in the lab with Tim since god knows what hour in the morning, he got them both. That left Clint with brutus and blondie. Whom, might Clint add, had both left the tower some time ago. 

He tried to explain to his friends how he was clearly given the shortest straw, but it appears none of the others were willing to trade. What a wonder it is that not a single one of them felt like tracking two teenagers around New York all day. Truly, a wonder. 

And so now Clint was atop one of the tallest roofs in the city, groaning in frustration as the trackers Nat had so expertly sewn into the kid’s clothes beeped out again, this time on the whole other side of town. 

He was clearly being led on a wild goose chase. He also didn't really have any other solution as of late and he couldn't just let them wander the city. Seriously, he had actually just checked with Steve. He had to find them. 

How?

Well, that one is still in the works. But, he does have some fun ideas of what to do _when_ he finds them. Some of the highlights include shooting out their kneecaps so they can't walk off again and booting them back to _their_ earth. Not that Steve would approve of that one, but he could have an opinion when he chased a couple rude children around town for two whole hours. Until then, he could get the first aid kit ready for when Clint returned. 

Not that Clint would _actually_ shoot them. Maybe. Another hour and that might change. It still was nice to think about nonetheless. Especially when the tracker beeped _again,_ two whole miles away from where it was initially. 

Yeah, he definitely needed a new plan. 

He sat on the rooftop in exhaustion, finding comfort in the roughness of the concrete below him. It was much too hot to be doing this today. Much, much, much too hot. The sun beat down on him relentlessly, and he couldn't help but think that it was in on some sick joke. A joke that was undoubtedly started by the the stupid little brats he was chasing. 

In reality, it shouldn't be so hard for him to find them. These were children, after all. And he was, well, he was an Avenger, a Shield agent, a fucking adult for crying out loud. Nat would laugh at him were she here. Hell, not even Steve would fail this miserably and that guy had the grace of a tank. If Clint couldn’t find these kids, well, that was frankly embarrassing. 

So, with renewed spite, he lifted himself from the roof to peer down below. He still didn't have a plan, but sitting here was doing no one any good. He also refused to follow those trackers any longer. With no other options, he opted for calling help. Not Tony Stark help or Nat help or even Mr. Capt’n America help. No, he called Peter. Because the kid was smart and, look, he refused to let his team get any more insult fodder. Pete was cool and he could keep a secret, so Clint could swallow his pride just this once. 

Peter picked up on the first ring, of course. That was just Peter. “Hey, uh, Mr. Barton sir. Do you need to talk to Mr. Stark or-”

“No kid, actually I needed to talk to you, or- well ask you to help me out with something.”

He tried not to dwell on the awkwardness of the situation. And how incredibly confident he _did not_ sound. There was a little bit of shuffling and whispering on the other line before Peter abruptly spoke up again. The kid was obviously way to close the microphone, making Clint reel back from the phone. 

“Yeah for sure! Uh, what do you need?”

This… well, this was really going to be a long day, huh. “It really isn't much, I’m just having a little trouble tracking our two friends out in the city. Think their trackers aren't working or something.”

Of course, he's lying. But he didn't really want to say they were leading him around town like a dog on a leash, so broken was the next best thing. 

There were some muffled sounds before he heard an entirely new voice speak through. It was quieter, probably a little farther away from the phone. “Oh, those trackers? Yeah we got rid of them this morning. Knowing those two, they probably attached them to some alley cat or stray or something

Oh. Well that actually made some sense. Infuriatingly, of course. “Hey, who is that speaking?”

“Sorry Mr. Barton, that's, uh, that's Tim. He’s in the lab with me right now.” 

It was Peter again, obviously ruffled and caught off guard. But, no, this was good. Tim could help Clint find the little brats. And then they could kiss his ass when he dragged them back to the tower. Yes, it's a marvelous plan. 

“Hey, uh, you wanna ask Tim if he knows where his siblings are?”

More sounds in the background, vague voices and little crackles later revealed Peter's answer, “He said he doesn't know.”

This cursed game of telephone was _not_ working anymore.

“Hm. Ok, can you give the phone to him, actually?” Clint answered back, trying to curb his growing annoyance. It wasn't Peter’s fault teenagers sucked. There would be plenty of time to yell at both Jason and Stephanie when he found them. 

There was more movement before Tim spoke again. “Hi.”

“Look, kid, I need to find your siblings. And they could get hurt out here in the city all alone. Just tell me where they went.”

“Steph isn't my sibling. That's gross.” There was a pause. “Oh, and Jason hates me, so he only counts as my brother when he isn't trying to kill me.”

“What? No, Dick told us you were all siblings.”

“ _Most_ of us are. But Steph is my ex and Jason tried to kill me so I’m not the right person to appeal too.”

Clint did not have the time to unpack all that. Like, _at all_. 

“Ok, well, if you don't like them then it should be easy for you just to tell me where they are.”

“Hey, I never said I didn't _like_ them.”

“Not that I don't care, but I really don't. I just got to find your friends before they burn New York to the ground.”

“Well, I wouldn't know where they are. They’ll come back eventually and, until then, you're not going to find them.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“They’re bats. If they don't want to be found, you're out of luck.”

“Yeah, well we’ll just have to see about that one.”

With a huff he hung up, trying to dispel his frustration. That was absolutely no help. Except for maybe the fact that he could finally get rid of the tracker plan. Which actually left him with less to go off of, in the end. 

Yeah, he needed to rethink his entire position on this. He decided to mentally lay it all out as he started to make rounds of the city. 

One, what is his goal? Find these stupid little motherfuckers and drag them back to the tower. 

Ok, two, what hasn't worked so far? That ones easy, the tracker. Also getting one of their own to tattle. 

Three, what hasn't he tried? Literally anything else.

Four, what resources does he have? That one's a bit trickier. In theory, he had a whole lot. But how many of those was he willing to use? Virtually none. So, really, because of his already hurt pride, he didn't have much. But he's also gotten through with less before, so there isn't much excuse. 

Five, what do we know about our enemy? Except for the fact that they _suck,_ not a whole lot. He knew they were from a separate earth (how fun) and were trained enough to dress up in costumes and go be heroes. Though, he hadn't seen much proof of that _so_ far. They were smart enough to find Nat’s tracker, which was only mildly concerning because that woman was _very_ good at hiding them in clothing. This was most definitely not their first rodeo, but, technically, they were at the disadvantage here. _They_ were the ones on a foreign earth. There was definitely some exploitable weakness there. 

He just had to find it. 

Alright, backtrack to step three. What hasn't he tried that he usually would when he wants to find someone? Well, a lot of things. First thing is always facial recognition. But since these kids were from a different earth, they weren't in the system. Hell, they didn't even _exist_ as far as facial recognition was concerned. 

And then, like a perfectly placed puzzle piece it clicked. Because anything, _anything_ , that separated someone from the greater population could be used to find them. All he had to do was use it a little backwards. Tell the program to look for people who _don't_ have a match rather than those that do.

It took a moment. New York was a big city after all. He did eventually get a hit though. Tony’s satellite sent live footage to his phone, picking up the two kids in fantastic HD. They were sitting on a roof just as he was, albeit a much shorter one. Blondie was sitting over the side, her legs swinging avidly in the free air. The bigger one, Jason, was crouched farther away from the ledge, but still much to close for Clint’s liking, his leather jacket thrown haphazardly beside him. They had, of course, changed out of their sweatpants and white T-shirts, for some better fitting clothes that were most-likely stolen. They also each had an ice-cream cone in their hands, laughing about something. 

There was a bubble of satisfaction that rose in him as he checked for the name of the street corner. Once he had it, he was off, moving across the city as fast as he could in an effort not to lose them before they moved on. The day was a lot cooler as he moved, but he knew the minute he slowed down the heat would hit him again.

It was lucky that they weren't _too_ far. He reached their destination in just under fifteen minutes, catching his breath as he looked over to where they sat. He was a few rooftops away and absolutely hated how his heart jumped in his throat and the girl balanced along the edge of the building as if it were a game. Jason was laughing at his place on his side, halfheartedly throwing rocks at her in an attempt to sabotage her balance. How incredibly dumb they were. 

Without even a moment of time to _think_ or plan out his next move, Clint was running. Because she was going to _fall_ and then it would be _his_ fault because he was supposed to be watching her. His feet hadn't hit the roof of their building before the kids were up and running. It appears in his haste, they had seen him coming. Nat would shake her head were she here right now. Clint followed, cursing words that the wind stole away as he did. They were _fast._

Because of course they were. 

But they also didn't know where they were going. to bad for them, Clint sure did. And they were running themselves right into a dead end. He tried to keep the smirk off his face, he really did (no, he really didn’t), as he cornered them. They had come to the edge of a building, one with little to no places to jump to. They would have to drop to the ground to continue and a block or two down that road would lead to some old abandoned office building on the edge of town. Dead end. Checkmate. 

Clint arrived just quick enough to watch them go inside the abandoned building. Which was, admittedly, slightly less of a victory considering he had to go _find_ them in there now. But they _were_ still trapped, so he’d still take it. 

“Come on, guys. It was a fun game and all, but I won so come on out.”

The inside of the building was musty and humid. The sun wasn’t directly beating down on him anymore, but it was almost worse inside than out. His shirt was damp with sweat and his breaths came out in little huffs due to the running and the dusty old air was no help. 

There were a few grimy windows, some with missing panes and broken corners, so he could see within just well enough to make out desks and chairs and old papers, all beyond use. 

“Look, I can't just let you run around New York all day. You had your fun now let’s go.”

His voice echoed in the too-empty place. Just as before, there was nothing to answer but the soft pitter-patter of the scrambling rats and his careful steps. There was no way they were coming out. Hell, there was no way _he_ would come out, were it him. But Clint also really, _really_ , didn't want to have to look through all of these rooms. Or be in there at all anymore, actually. 

“Ok, well I guess I’ll just tell Tim I couldn’t find you. He said it was important but-”

That seemed to do the trick because Stephanie dropped from the rafters (where he had _not_ seen her before, mind you) soon after, fixing her messy ponytail as she appraised him with critical eyes. She was wearing an over-sized, faded, rock band T-shirt, that hung off of her in odd angles. It looked odd paired with the dark purple pants and bright blue sneakers she was also sporting. It seemed that the new clothes they stole were thrifted, so that was a little better. Really, Clint was a little too far in his triumph to care much. 

“What about Timmy?” She snapped, crossing her arms across her chest. It was a spectacularly mean stance for someone so small. 

Clint faltered, but only slightly. He hadn’t exactly planned out what was next in his lie once it got them to come out of their little shadows. If it were any other person, they definitely wouldn't have noticed. Steph clearly did. Because of course she did. These people were like little Nat’s with Tony’s incessant childish humor. Not a fun combination _at all._

“He, uh, said he needed you guys for something. Wouldn't tell me what.”

He shrugged as he said it, like it didn’t matter to him whether they came back or not. Like he hadn’t spent the entire morning looking for them. It was a bad lie, yes. But it didn't really matter. They would come back to see their brother-friend-ex-literally who knows, because that's what teams, and families, did. It's what Clint would do for _his_ team and _his_ family. These people were clearly both to each other. 

Jason came out next, melting out of the shadows he was standing in the come up next to Stephanie. “You’re lying. We’re the last people replacement would come to for help.”

He sounded bored, like he didn't care. Clint could tell that he did. Jason sounded the same way Nat did when she was nervous but didn't want to show it. But whereas she would put on a front of stability and confidence, Jason tacked on a lot of fake bravado. 

“Yeah,” Clint started, speaking before he could stop himself. “You tried to kill him and all. He told me.”

He shouldn't have taken so much satisfaction in the shock on their faces, but it's what they got for making him run around to find them. Little brats. Before they could be composed enough to respond, Clint added on, despite himself, “You know, right before he asked me to go and find you.”

Jason narrowed his eyes, but Stephanie had since opened her stance. “Look, buddy, if Tim wanted us, he would tell us _himself_. He can contact us, you know.”

“Yeah, also,” Jason started, speaking in mock-importance, “I haven’t tried to kill him in, like, two years. We’re all over it.”

That sure was a new one. In hindsight, it made sense they had ways to communicate with each other. Clint decided not to even touch the whole I-haven't-killed-him-recently thing with a ten-foot stick. 

“Just come back to the stupid tower.”

“No.”

“Why not? Do you just get a kick out of being difficult?”

“Actually, yeah, I do.”

“Oh shut it, Jason. Look, Mr. Bow and Arrow guy, we aren't coming back because we don't _want_ to. It isn't that hard of a concept, really.” 

This was getting very old very fast. 

“You have to return eventually.”

“And we will. Later.”

Clint wanted to have a very pointed talk with these kids' parents. Honestly, _his_ children would never behave this way. Ever. 

He still needed to watch these two, but it was also apparent this was a battle he couldn't win without actually fighting it out, drugging them, and then dragging them back to the tower by their ankles. But that didn't sound like any fun. Like, at all. 

With a sigh of resignation he realized what he was going to have to spend his entire day doing.

“Fine, have it your way. You still need someone to make sure you don't break anything, so I’m going to be on you all day until you return.”

“Not if we shake you.”

She said it so confidently that Clint almost groaned. Instead he said, “You can try.”

They did try, of course and, true to his word, Clint chased them. And you know, it was almost fun. Almost. 

Like a really long, really annoying, and really hard game of hide and seek tag. Where you kind of just want to knock everyone out and call it a day, but can't because that would be cheating. 

It was still a game though. And games, however frustrating, definitely weren’t the worst. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little bit rushed and I kind of hate it, but I still wanted to get something out, so, we'll just have to get over it. 
> 
> Please do your homework (if you have any) and get some good sleep. 
> 
> Until next time.


	4. damn you, jarvis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dick meets steve
> 
> &
> 
> babs meets jarvis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So its literally been a day. I finished a new chapter anyway, so here you go. 
> 
> I've had the idea for the Steve and Dick part of this chapter since the very beginning, but the Barbara part was heavily inspired by a comment from @Ceciliedr, which said "... As for things to do, what about Babs hacking shield?..." 
> 
> You can thank them for me cranking this out so quickly because the minute I read thier idea I just had to write it. I also wanted to say that I know not a single thing about hacking and computers so its probably inaccurate. I also really don't want to have to research it, like, at all. 
> 
> Lastly, there is little editing in this chapter. School is still kicking my ass so I have no time to spare here. As always, thank you so much for reading!

Dick _hated_ the word stranded. It made him sound like he was sitting on his hands waiting for someone to rescue him. For the almighty _Batman_ to rescue him. 

And yeah, ok he perfectly understands that needing to be saved from time to time is nothing to be ashamed about. Hell, he’d been telling Damian that for as long as he’d known the kid. But this specific situation, well, it was just a little bit different. Maybe it was the fact that it was Dick’s fault they were here to begin with. Or maybe it was that all of his siblings seemed so without-a-doubt sure Bruce would find them. It could be that Dick would also bet his left kidney Bruce would find them. After all, he always did. 

Except, Bruce couldn't possibly know where they were now. _They_ didn't even really know where they were. The reality of it was, Bruce was not going to be the one who made the first move here. _They_ had to find a way to contact their earth, The League, Bruce, literally anyone, before any sort of rescue could even know to come. 

It still kind of bugged Dick he even needed a rescue. But only because he had caused this mess and he was wildly incapable of fixing it. And really, who wouldn't hate that?

He liked to think of this as a detour on their original plan instead. Yes, they were still going to stop The League of Assassins from leveling Gotham. They just had to get home and kick Edward Nigma to the moon first. Definitely doable and not at all worrisome. 

Right now he was focused on gaining as much information about this foreign place as he could in the shortest amount of time possible. It was a good thing his siblings were so good at that. Tim and Damian were assigned to getting to know more about their mysterious hosts. Tim, ever so smart, went for the weakest link: Peter. From what Tim had texted him throughout the day this was totally planned and not at all a coincidence of his hazy coffee run. Damian had stalked off, claiming he would find someone and texted back later it was Natasha. Leave it to him to pick the challenge. 

Both Stephanie and Jason had jumped at the chance to venture into the city. Officially they were there to learn the routes and back alleys, find places to hide out and any other useful information. They were probably doing some of that at least. It was good enough, in the long run. 

Cass was around the tower somewhere doing her own thing. He wasn’t worried much about her. She’d show up when they needed her. That left Dick with Barbara. 

It had been hectic at home the past couple months. So hectic that he hadn't gotten much time to hang out with Babs lately. This was a great upside to a world of downsides. He should be trying to enjoy it. But he’s _stranded._ So he can't. 

Just lovely. 

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Came a voice from beside him.

Dick was in the abandoned meeting room, right at the top of the tower. He was definitely _not_ wallowing in one of the chairs as Babs stared out the window to the sight below. Tim’s half-finished coffee pot was still seen sitting in the kitchenette. That boy was much too used to Alfred cleaning up after him. 

Dick turned to look through the window as well, vaguely registering how similar it was to the sight through the top floor window at Wayne Enterprises. The city was bustling below, people rushing in throngs through the streets, weaving in and out of the shadows caused by the looming buildings all around. This place was a lot like Gotham in that sense. Busy. Big. It was only just slightly brighter though. Like the sun dared to come a little bit closer. Maybe it was just the heat of the day that made it seem that way. Dick doubted it.

“Yeah. Reminds me of home.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Barbara turned to lean on the table beside him. “We haven't even been here a day.”

“Too long.”

“Agreed,” there was a pause and then a sly smile, “let's find a way out of here then.” 

He looked at her, just in time to catch the slight twinkle in her eye as she spoke. “Have an idea?” He asked, already knowing the answer. Of course she had an idea. She always did, after all. 

“Lets just say that a tower like this one is bound to have a whole network of information embedded in it." And just like that, he found himself smiling back. 

  
  


**********

It was only slightly annoying that the other-earth kids had split up before any of the Avengers had managed to even come up with a plan for the day. And sure, maybe it was a bit unprofessional to call it a night without a game plan for the next day, but they were _tired_ ok. Plus, kids usually slept in. How could they have realistically known they would wake up to find scattered children around the city? 

Regardless, they actually had to find the children now. Steve had chosen to watch the oldest two. He suspected the rest of the team thought he was going for the easy job. After all, these two were technically adults and therefore needed loads less babysitting. Steve was pretty content in letting them believe that, really. After all, they probably wouldn't be too on board with his real objective, which was to bombard the two with questions about why an eleven year old was fighting crime with them, for starters anyway. 

He knew they were in the tower. He also knew where, considering there were cameras in this place. It still made him uncomfortable. The thought that someone could see anything he did in the tower at any time, well, he didn't love it. Now, though, he could appreciate the usefulness. 

Steve was making bullet points of the dangers of children fighting in what was basically a war as he walked into the main room of the highest floor in the tower. It was kind of like a common room of sorts. All the parties were hosted here, meetings held, and late night talks taken. It also, apparently, was where people arrived from other earths. Steve really didn't even want to think about it any more than he had to.

Richard was facing the window, gazing at the skyline below. No Barbara, which was an issue, but it's not like they both needed to be here for his lecture anyway. Richard was ultimately his target. 

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Steve asked as he approached. The boy did move an inch, except to huff a laugh, like Steve had unknowingly walked into being the butt of a joke. 

“Yeah,” Richard responded now, amusement coating his voice, “reminds me of home.”

Ah. Of course he would miss his home. Steve felt a little ball of sympathy burst inside him as he responded. “I’m sorry. We will get you home. I promise.”

“That’s a pretty big promise, considering you don’t actually understand how we got here.”

“I don’t have to understand it to set it right.”

“Don’t you?”

“No.”

“Ok then.” The boy ran his hands through his raven hair, messy and sticking up around his head. He smiled ruefully. It was the kind of smile you give a child when they tell you they want to marry a mermaid when they grow up. The kind that says he doesn't believe Steve in the slightest, but appreciates the effort nonetheless. 

It's only slightly insulting.

“So,” Steve started, lining up his lecture in his mind, “you all go out and fight the good fight back on your earth?”

“Yep.”

There was a pause, Steve waiting for Richard to put in a “but not the younger ones because that would be positively absurd”. He doesn't. 

“Even the kid?”

“We’re all kids in one way or another.”

“You aren't."

“Anymore.”

Richard had turned to look at Steve fully now, all the humor in his expression since evaporated. It was the most peculiar gaze. Not intimidating exactly, but definitely not comfortable. It took Steve a conscious effort not to step back a little. 

“It was wrong when you were a kid too, then. Just like it's wrong now.”

“Since when is helping people ever wrong?”

“Kids shouldn't have to fight the battles adults started.”

“I agree,” he put emphasis in the phrase, looking at Steve right in the eyes as he did, “and if the world were fair, they wouldn’t. But they do, and it isn't.”

“How can you even justify allowing him to, to endanger himself so stupidly-”

“-probably because it wasn't my choice.”

Steve shook his head at that, almost as if he could chase the incredibility of that statement away. “I'm sorry, what?”

Richard let out a long sigh, some of the intensity melting out of his shoulders, exhaustion taking its place. “No one forced him into this. _He_ chose to do this and he was pretty adamant about it too. It was either he did it alone or with us. There wasn’t anyone in the world who could stop him.”

Steve didn’t really know how to respond to that. Luckily he didn’t have to just yet, because Dick continued before he got the chance. “And, to be frank, none of us were really too focused on stopping him. We all started pretty young and, I don't know, understood the drive. The need to use what you know to help someone so that maybe they don't suffer like you did.” 

Dick shrugged, “Plus, it's not like he can’t hold his own.”

Some of the accusation had leaked away from Steve’s voice as he spoke next. “It’s still wrong. Kids they’re- he’s too young to fight like this. He’s too young to have to know what that's like.”

“You don’t think I don’t know that? It doesn’t change the fact that he _does_. It’s hard to explain, but Damian needs this. He needs to know he can do good.”

“There’s got to be better ways to show him.”

“Oh, really? And why did you start fighting? Could you honestly sit there and tell me there was anything else you would rather do? Can you honestly claim there's a better way to quench that thirst inside you that drives you to want to single-handedly save the world?”

There was silence and then, “No.”

“Yeah, well, Damian is no different. None of us are. That’s why we’re all here and the rest of the people in the world, the ones who can find a better way, aren’t.”

“I still don’t agree with it.”

“You don't have too,” Richard responded, gazing through the window once more, “just respect it. In the end, we don’t need your blessing.”

  
  


**********

The security at this place was _good._ Like super secure, mind-blowingly amazing, kind of good. Barbara was better, of course, but she could still appreciate the pure genius that this tower was. It appeared that all the systems in the tower, and stored information on literally _everything,_ met at one certain point. Now that. That was a little dumb. Except it made her job easier so, really, who cares. Barbara didn’t have a whole lot of time to ponder on it, considering her time was limited. 

Her and Dick had discerned that it was only a matter of time before someone from The Justice League 2.0 came to check up on them. And hacking into someone's system, well, that was more of an alone activity. Dick promised he could buy her at least an hour without prying eyes. It wasn't long, so she had to make the most of it. Getting around the securities was something for sure, but she quickly found a pattern and rode it all the way to the finish line. 

What she wasn’t expecting was for the meeting point for all the information to _talk to her._

She almost jumped back from the computer as the voice rang out. “Hello. This is Jarvis. I was built by Mr. Stark to protect and assist him on his technological endeavors. You do not have access to this information.”

“Holy shit that's cool,” Babs mumbled as she got a better look at this 'Jarvis'. 

It was only slightly hilarious Tony had _named_ his little computer friend. Slightly. And boy was Jarvis a wonder. Barbara would have been perfectly content with admiring Jarvis for the rest of her hour, but she did have an objective here. It was obvious she wasn’t going to get past this beauty of a program to get the information she needed unless she shut him down. 

Well, that seemed all kinds of _impossible._ Barbara had to admit it, Tony Stark was one smart man. 

It was mostly difficult because she didn't want to hurt Jarvis much. She didn't think she could even bring herself too. It would just be way too much of a travesty, truly. She really just wanted to put him asleep for a little. Like 20 minutes tops. But Jarvis was wide awake and _annoying_. He kept talking. And talking. And talking. 

“You do not have access to view that.”

“I’m sorry miss, but that is not something I can give you access to.”

“If you continue to try to repeatedly access the system I will be forced to alert Mr.Stark to your activities.”

Stupid little snitch. Barbara was getting tired. And fast. It was time for her to shut him down.

And, due to her incredible brilliance, she did.

Except Tony Stark was _also_ incredibly brilliant. He had apparently connected Jarvis to _every single system_ in the tower. Every. Single. One. No, not just the security measures and filed information. Everything. 

Which meant the moment Barbara shut down Jarvis, the entire tower went black. Everything went offline, including the lights.

Jarvis was definitely no longer the wonder he had once been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, ok, so the feeling of this chapter is all over the place. There's a few, almost somber, moments that don't totally fit. Also Dick is probably ooc, but I think it works. 
> 
> Seriously thank you so much for all of the wonderful feedback! It really makes my day. 
> 
> Ok, thank you and goodbye!


	5. lights out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tim and peter
> 
> &
> 
> nat and damian
> 
> (again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hi.
> 
> It's been a minute, I know. Sorry.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter was really hard to write for no good reason. I've been trying lace some tendrils of plot throughout right now just in case I feel like doing something with them. Hopefully that will make future chapters a little easier to write? 
> 
> I hate this chapter actually, but there's not a whole lot more I can do with it. Very little editing, but what's new. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me and my inconsistency. Hope you enjoy this chapter more than I did!

Peter was nice company. He talked a lot and seemed to say the most obscure things at the most obscure times, but it wasn't like Tim hated hanging out with the kid. They had made their way down to Tony Stark's lab maybe a few hours ago and had been there ever since. 

And boy was this lab a wonder. There was everything Tim could think of and then _more_ . Experimental technologies, advanced software, programs, _everything._ As promised, Peter showed Tim his suit, which was also pretty cool. It actually sort of reminded him of the dork-suit Jason and Steph constantly made fun of Elongated Man for wearing, but Tim didn't say anything. It felt like the polite thing to do _._

Speaking of Jason and Steph, the angry bow and arrow guy from the day before called up maybe an hour ago asking how to find them. Which was pretty funny because Tim was probably the _worst_ person to ask. Plus, bow and arrow guy had a sour attitude. No way was Tim going to risk making them angry at him for that guy. 

Peter had been sort of quiet ever since. Which did kind of suck, considering Tim was sort of enjoying their conversation. Peter loved to talk, especially about the other heroes he knew in the tower. Slowly, as the morning had bled on and turned to afternoon, Tim had gotten more to go off of than just a name and a face. According to Peter, Banner was incredibly smart, which didn't really surprise Tim all that much. Steve was a soldier in World War 2, which made the costume make a whole lot more sense. It also kind of took out all the fun of making fun of it. Nat and Clint were powerless, like him and the rest of his siblings. And Tony, well, boy did Peter have a lot to say about Tony. 

By the time Clint did call, Tim felt like he knew more about Tony than he did Bruce. Which, well it didn't feel _great_ , but that's not the point. Tony built this entire tower and technically was also powerless, except for the “power of his mind”, or whatever Peter had said. He, apparently, had a big metal suit that he flew around in, that was painted red and yellow like condiments at a fast food place. If Tim were anyone else, he might have thought it sounded absurd. 

Now, though, it was quiet and the room was no longer full of the magnificent feats of Ironman and the rest of his Avengers. Hearing the stories sort of felt like listening to one of those really bad action movies he and his siblings would watch together after patrol. They were all full of glory and overdramatized for effect, but the way Peter told them reminded him of how Bart used to talk about the Flash’s latest save. It was comfortable and familiar and felt like a little piece of home. 

Except now Peter was silent and probably upset and Tim had about zero idea why or what to do, so he was stuck tinkering with the various gadgets on his suit with nothing but his own thoughts. _Great._

He should say something. The only problem is what he was going to say. He felt as if he had exhausted all the questions he could already ask and Tim was never very good at small talk. Listening he could do. Starting and continuing conversations? Yeah, you got the wrong guy.

Lucky for him, Peter beat him to it. This seemed to be increasingly become a trend between them.

“So, your brother tried to kill you?” 

He said it lightly, and curiously, like it was the punchline of a very obviously bad joke. But there was a slight shake, a nervousness there that told Tim the idea spooked Peter a little. 

“Uh, yeah, a few years ago I think,” Tim said, unsure of how to phrase the last part of his response. How was he supposed to tell Peter that Jason was no longer a zombie-maniac while also not making it sound like he’s got a really bad case of Stockholm syndrome?

“And you just… aren't mad?”

“Mad? Mad about what?”

“Well, you said he almost killed you. Like, he wanted you dead and tried to make it happen,” Peter had swiveled around in his chair to face Tim now, speaking very slowly like he was trying to punch every word into the air around them. “Wouldn’t you be, I don't know, a little upset about that?”

And that, well, that did make _some_ sense. But really, Tim didn't remember a whole lot about what he felt at that time of his life. Except maybe shock because _Jason was alive,_ and a fair bit of hurt because _his hero hates him,_ and he could probably pinpoint a little bit of fear because _shit he’s actually killing me._ But, upset? Mad? Tim hadn’t had the time to feel any of those things. It’s not like he really wanted to either.

Besides, Jason has been better lately. Not good by any standards, but he’s actually acting like he’s apart more often than not and he seems to be capable of holding an actual conversation with Tim without threatening the loss of limbs or life. Plus, he’s getting along with Steph just great. 

It might be a little dumb, but Tim is just stoked Jason’s showing any interest in their little family at all. Sure, the guy tried to kill him, but Jason would always be Robin and there would always be a small part of Tim that loves him for that. It might be pathetic, but Tim couldn’t be _mad_ at Jason. Not in a way that matters, anyway.

To Peter he merely said, “I don't know, maybe I was then but, like I said, it's been awhile. Jason hasn't tried to kill me in years and it wasn't really his fault anyway. We’re all over it by now.”

“How could trying to kill someone not be his fault?”

It was a fair question. Still, Tim was annoyed with it. “Look, it's complicated. Just forget it, really.”

“Ok, ok, it's just,” Peter sighed, “for someone who’s over it, you sure do seem to care a lot.”

And, well, Tim didn't really know what he was going to say to that. He was definitely planning to say something, and he really would have too, if only he had gotten the chance. 

Because not only did Peter aggravatingly have a point, but the power went down just as Tim opened his mouth to speak. Suddenly there were much bigger problems at hand. 

*********

Training with Damian ended up being alright. Fun, actually. The kid was smart and capable and yeah, maybe a little full of himself, but that matched up with his skill just fine. Nat was enjoying herself, which is not something she thought she would be admitting. 

They had since moved on from the specialized moves, like kicks and flips and all that good stuff. Personally, Nat could have done that all day, but Damian had other things in mind and, honestly, she wanted to keep the kid content. He was pretty intense about all this training business and whereas Nat was using the time to leisurely practice a few moves and get in some good cardio, Damian was going at it like every punch would be the last he ever threw. It was admirable, to say the least, although Nat couldn't help but feel something bitter inside her when she looked at him. Like she was seeing a mirror of a younger version of herself. A mirror with a very sad reflection. 

Therefore, she let him lead the way around the training room from activity to activity to his heart’s content. She had tried to pick up conversation a few times here and there, but Damian didn’t seem very interested in talking about himself. Every hour or so he would ask a clipped question. Something curious and virtually harmless about the Avengers or their tower or how they protect the world. Nat would give a good natured answer every time and even would try to keep the conversation going after the first few, but nothing ever seemed to stick much. 

Cassandra was still nowhere to be found as well. It isn’t like Nat to simply ignore half of her objective, but Damian seemed to need the companionship and Cass really didn't seem like the sort to cause any real trouble. 

She had been the first one that drew Nat’s eyes when they arrived. Perhaps it was the all black or perhaps it was the fact that she was standing pretty much in the middle of them all. Cass seemed like the core of the group to Nat at first, all calm air and sure of herself. She didn’t talk much, that was clear enough, but she gave the impression that she simply didn't need too. 

Nat certainly knew better than to just let Cass go freely on the feeling of trust she got from a few glances, but in all honesty, Damian seemed to be more of an exploding canon out of the two so she could let it slide. But only just today and only just for Damian. 

Still, even as the day waned on they both grew sweaty and tired from the relentless practice, Nat felt quite useless besides this young boy. They had long since stopped actively working together to train and it wasn't like he was gaining any entertainment value from her presence, what with them not speaking more than a few words an hour. And it wasn't like they _had_ to have a conversation, but something about this little boy just screamed lonely. 

Not ordinary loneliness either. The kind of lonely that seeps into your bones and rushes under your skin. You can feel it tighten around you like a vise at every passing second. And every time you think it might finally have gotten too tight, that you might finally suffocate in it’s grip, it loosens just enough to let you take one solitary breath before snatching you up again. Nat would know. She lived in this kind of lonely a long time ago, before Clint, before the team. Before anyone cared for her and she cared for anyone. She didn’t miss the feeling nor could she stand seeing it in someone else. That is why, after hours of failed attempts at conversation, she tried just one more time. 

“So, Richard said you were all related and, as much as I’m most definitely not calling him a liar, something tells me there's no blood shared. At least, not between all of you.”

Damian’s answer was punctuated by his fist hitting the punching bag, “We aren’t.”

“Hm,” Nat moved to wrap her hands so that could join him, trying to act as if the response didn’t thrill her beyond reason, “so, how did you all manage to come together?”

“Tt,” was the only answer she got. She was expecting that to be it, considering that's how Damian answered most questions he didn’t want to discuss. However this time he continued, “My father.”

She nodded, moving to the bag next to Damian and finding her stance, “Who is he to all of them, then?”

Damian thought for a moment before, “Father, I suppose.”

“You are all adopted then?”

He scoffed before, “Never. I am the blood son. The _only_ blood son.”

His demeanor had changed quite rapidly, no longer controlled or, well, the closest thing to relaxed Nat had seen him, but now tight and angry. He was hitting to bag considerably harder as well. “So, _they’re_ adopted then.”

“Obviously.”

“Do you not like them?”

It was a risky question to ask, considering he already seemed to be upset, but she tried her hand nonetheless. She probably should have thought it through a little more. The minute the words left her mouth Damian recoiled, stopping dead in the middle of his sets to turn to her in surprise and something like an offended confusion.

“Of course not,” he said with a little too much power.

She immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, it just seemed like they annoy you a lot is all.”

It was a sorry attempt at a save herself but, hey, at least the effort was there. “Oh,” he turned back to the bags and readied himself again, “well, they do.”

He began to punch in intervals again and Nat pretty much decided to leave it in silence. She had managed to make the kid upset twice in a ten minute interaction already and she wasn't planning to make it three times. To her delight, Damian continued for her.

“Except maybe Cain,” there was a pause and then after what looked like a bit of deliberating, “and Grayson can be alright too.”

“And who are they?”

“Richard and Cassandra. Their last names.”

“Oh, yes of course,” Nat tried not to smile, but it was exciting to have faces to match the names, “Richard seems like the caring type. You know, making sure everyone is alright and all of that.”

“He is,” Damian replied, except his voice had grown fonder now, “however he has about zero regard for his own safety because of it.”

Nat let herself smile at this, “We have one of those too you know. Steve could lose his own leg and then kill himself of blood loss trying to hobble around to make sure everyone is doing alright. Quite inconvenient if you ask me.”

And, miraculously, this startled a laugh out of Damian. It was short and a little more like a bark then anything, but it was something and Nat could feel her own pride at the victory. 

She was cueing up another joke, one that could truly make Damian lose it she was sure, when the room went dark. 

Oh, how wonderful. 

They both froze, listening for any noises in the black that might indicate someone approaching, or leaving, and nothing. “Did you do something?” Damian asked quietly, the seriousness in his voice overriding any remaining tendrils of humor that bounced in the air.

“No,” she said back. It was quick and short and all she needed to say for them both to begin moving towards the hallways. It could have been a fluke, just the lights in the training room going out for one reason or another. But it could also be an attack. Nat began to prepare herself, mentally mapping out the different stashed weapons she could grab that were nearest to their location. 

The hallway was dark as well. She turned to where could sense Damian’s presence. He was taught as a wire and clearly running down different options in his mind as well. But she needed him with her, not running off to do god knows what in a pitch dark tower. 

“Follow me,” she said, “I know where I can find a light.”

She began to move down the hallway, thanking her memory of the place to guide her way. Both her and Clint had basically imprinted a map of Tony’s way-to-big tower into their brains the minute it became a regular meeting place for the team and it was proving quite useful now. She couldn’t hear Damian’s footsteps behind her, but was aware of him following behind her regardless. 

They weaved throughout hallways and rooms in silence, ears straining for anyone or anything that might mean to harm them. She was coming up on her first stash, expertly hidden in the grate just a few feet above the floor. She estimated it was only a dozen more steps in front of her before she heard a slight rustle coming from that very direction. 

Her and Damian froze, taking in the renewed silence in apprehension. There was another quiet shuffle and then, very softly, a few knocks. They sounded like a sort of pattern and within the moment of silence later she heard the same pattern repeated behind her, by Damian. 

Ah, so this must be one of his family. It made sense that they would have code to identify each other with. She let out the breath she was holding and moved towards as the hallway was filled with the soft noises of a grate being removed from the wall. Nat vaguely allowed herself to register that that meant someone had been moving throughout the walls of the tower before. 

When she reached the grate, slender hands deftly handed Nat a small case--her stash--and a matching slender body slunk around her to meet Damian. The two seemed to have a silent conversation over her shoulder as Nat busied herself with the contents of the case. Several knives were pocketed and a distress signal pressed before she pulled out the real prize.

A glow stick. Nat quickly snapped it and shook the contents inside before an eerie yellow glow emitted from the rod. She could see Damian now, looking alert and ready. Beside him was Cassandra, looking very pristine for having just climbed through a grate. There wasn’t a single glossy hair out of place on her head. 

“We need to find the others,” Nat said, glad that she had both children in her care accounted for.

Cass held up three fingers to Damian and then pointed to herself. 

“Cain says that she knows where three of our’s is,” he turned back to Cassandra for a moment as she held out three more fingers, “and so by default she knows where three of yours are.”

“Well, I can account for the last three I think. Clint went to find a couple of your siblings outside of the tower.”

Both Damian and Cass nodded at this, as if they had known all along, or maybe just known that Stephanie and Jason were rendezvousing out in the city. Either way, that left Steve and Tony for them to find. 

She turned to Cass. “Anyone on the floors above us?”

Cass nodded in return. Assuming that Tony was still downstairs with Peter in the lab, that meant it was probably Steve they were going to go looking for. 

“Which floor?”

“Top.”

“This way.”

Without another word she turned and walked down the hallway once more, away from the grate. Both Cassandra and Damian dutifully followed behind her as she slowly made her way to the nearest elevator.

The glow stick bobbed around the walls as she walked, casting shadows of their figures on the bare walls. This place reminded Nat very much of a morgue sometimes, with the pristine white and minimal furnishing. It had only just been rebuilt a few months prior from Loki’s attack on the world and Tony simply hadn’t gotten around to stamping his style onto the entire place yet. It made the tower seem empty at times. 

They reached the elevators easily enough, but were quick to realize whatever shut off the power hadn't just effected the lights. No, it shut down _everything._

Which meant they had to find their way to the stairs. 

How _great._

*********

Peter could run fast. Very, very fast, in fact. Tim was hot on his heels of course, but that still didn't change how tired he was getting. Eventually he did have to grab Peter's arm and yank him to a standstill.

“What?” Peter asked, or more like shouted, to Tim. His voice was wild and breathy. Tim could practically feel the panic in Peter buzz around him in the air. 

“Just, slow down okay. Running around aimlessly in the dark is getting us nowhere.”

“I’m trying to find Mr. Stark! That is not nowhere, in fact that is exactly what he has told me to do at least a million times if something is happening at the tower.”

“Yeah, and as great as that is, _we can't actually see where the hell we’re going,_ ” Tim tightened his grip on Peter’s forearm in an effort to get the words to sink in, “Lets just take a moment to figure this out.”

Peter was still breathing heavily but he managed out a sigh and then, “Ok, ok. So what do we do?”

“Let’s try to move to a higher level. We’ll have easier access for escape from the roof.”

“Escape? What about Mr. Stark? Or, or any of the others?”

Tim sighed as he eyed the endless hallway he stood in the middle of. This place was the equivalent of a maze. He would never find his way to the top floor on his own. That pretty much meant Peter knowing his way around the tower was the core of his plan.

“Please tell me you have stairs in this place,” Tim said, having ignored Peter’s question.

“We can’t just leave everyone here!” Peter said to the outline of Tim he could see, “Heroes don’t do that.”

“We aren’t leaving them here and if they had any sense they would be going to the same place we are. One problem at a time. Now, are there stairs here and much more importantly, can you take us to them?”

Peter’s breathing was more even now and Tim let his hand fall away from the boy’s arm. “Come on Pete, they can take care of themselves. We can't help them unless we help ourselves first.”

This seemed to persuade him because after a beat of silence Peter said, “Yeah, yeah I can see pretty well actually. You know, special spider sight and all. Come on, stairs are this way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It ended kind of abruptly this time. There was a lot more I wanted to fit in, but the chapter would have doubled in size if I tried to fit it all so I figured I'd make it sort of a two part thing. I'll do my best to get the next part out sooner rather than later. 
> 
> Nat also feels a tad ooc to me, but I like her in this so I'm not going to worry about it. 
> 
> As always thank you so much for reading and take care of yourself! I appreciate the kind words and feedback so, so much.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a pretty good chance I'm going to continue this just because of all the fun scenarios that could occur. I have a few in my head already. If you have any ideas or requests I'd love to hear them. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading.


End file.
